On The First Day Of Christmas
by Lokifan
Summary: A 12part Christmas series. Alone on Christmas Day, Draco's surprised with a gift.
1. Chapter 1

_25__th__ December – Christmas Day_

"On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me..."

Draco sang under his breath as he looked through his presents. They were nice – such a bland word, the sort of word you'd use in a thank-you letter to a great aunt, but an accurate one. Not that he wasn't grateful, or that they weren't all expensive things he'd enjoy. They were all better than what he'd got last year, shivering and flinching from Death Eaters while he sat with his parents in a corner. It was just hard to be properly gleeful on his own. He'd been enjoying his day – the Christmas dinner had been delicious, and he'd talked to different sixth-year Slytherins, and exchanged greetings with Terry Boot. But now he was back here, Draco had been struck full force by the reality of a Christmas holiday with his friends away and his parents in a hotel while the Manor was revamped. At first it had been nice, reading and catching up on work alone; he was blissfully relaxed. But it was a bit depressing to be spending Christmas without anyone who really liked you around.

_Don't be stupid. Presents! Focus _

Draco picked up _The Ley Line Conspiracy_, a decidedly un-literary book his father had slipped in on the sly, and got stuck in to the daring adventures of a maverick Auror and his nemesis.

The Head of the Auror Office was threatening to take Thornton's badge when a tiny owl pelted in through the door – it must have managed to get into Slytherin with a student. It winged its way right up to him and flew round and round his head so fast Draco began to feel dizzy. The candles flickered in its wake.

"What the hell is up with you?" he demanded of it. "Weird little – bugger. I remember you. You're Weasley's owl."

Draco grabbed it out of the air with one swipe, and wished someone had seen him do it. _Draco Malfoy, Super Seeker _ He opened his hand. The owl looked a little ruffled, but still had a firm hold on its parcel. Draco eyed it with deep suspicion. Weasley had already announced his plans to join his brother George at _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_. It would be just like him to announce a new product by using it on Draco.

It was a weird shape, too. The parcel was long, about ten inches, and thin. In fact, it was exactly the shape of a...

_ Wand! _

The next second, Draco was tearing into the package like there was no tomorrow. _Please, please, please... it's got to be... _"YES!"

His wand! His wand! It was actually there! Draco dropped everything, including the owl, and started dancing, bright green sparks shooting from the end of his wand. It was glorious. The familiar feel of the wood was bliss under his hand; it was practically crackling with magic.

Draco noticed something else – a bit of parchment had fluttered out of the brown paper when it hit the floor. He picked it up, absently noticing the twittering little bird fly from the room.

_ Malfoy,_

_Hermione's done some research for me. It turns out a wand isn't always conquered when it's taken away – that's why people can practice duelling. If a person takes a wand belonging to a friend, they can return it and it will still belong to them. We've never been friends. But I hope returning this wand to you and hoping you can use this gift will be enough._

_Merry Christmas_

_- Harry Potter _

Draco fingered his wand. For a moment he shivered – he felt as if Potter's hand was laid over his, his essence still imprinted on the wood. The wand wasn't his yet, he could feel that, but he could still use it.

"_ Lumos_!"


	2. Chapter 2

_26__th__ December – Boxing Day _

He was bored. Dear Merlin, he was bored. Boxing Day was so dull. A day for leftovers. And he was a leftover friend.

Draco quickly told himself to stop being so self-pitying. He finally had his wand back, he should still be celebrating! He sent a stream of red and green sparks up towards his bed's canopy, in deference to the season, and considered making a house with his new Exploding Snap deck.

_I'm never moving again. I'll just sit here until they find my tragically beautiful, emaciated corpse._

When Weasley's little owl swooped into the room Draco leapt off the bed and grabbed it all in one movement. He ripped into the parcel it was carrying.

It was a book.

"Huh." This was not particularly exciting. Draco supposed if you were friends with Hermione Granger for seven years it rubbed off on you. The book looked all right, though. It was called_ Magic Mechanics – A User's Guide. _

It occurred to Draco that this was not a case of returning something of his. This was an actual present.

He grabbed the note. There must be an explanation!

_Malfoy,_

_I thought you might like this. Mr Weasley recommended it to me – Ron's dad. You've proved yourself pretty good with fixing things already, and maybe now you can put your talents to better use._

_Merry Christmas_

_- HP _

Draco read it through, then flushed a furious pink. _Maybe now you can put your talents to better use_!Stupid bastard, he had _no _idea, and he was just taunting Draco about what he'd done...

Draco looked at the note again.

_ Mr Weasley recommended it to me_. Potter must have asked him for a book on magical mechanics. He could have just asked his bookworm friend, but he'd asked someone who he thought would have specific knowledge on what Draco liked. He'd made an effort.

Draco smiled to himself, and settled in to the best armchair by the fire. Time to see if Weasley had made a good choice.

When dinnertime came, Draco was still reading.


	3. Chapter 3

_27__th__ December_

_Malfoy,_

_You were always a good opponent – off the pitch as well as on. It's a shame our last time flying together isn't the best of memories. Care to change that? You and me, one on one._

_- HP _

It was a Snitch.

Draco stared down at the little golden ball in his palm, watching the silver wings twitch and flutter as if it was itching to be flying. He felt as if it were catching, that sudden restless desire to be up, hurtling through the air and feeling the wind burn his cheeks. And Potter was offering a one-on-one game, a chance to finally beat him. Draco grinned fiercely at the thought of it, his fingers closing around the tiny ball and knowing victory at last.

But why would Potter do this? Since they'd both returned to Hogwarts in September, the two had studiously avoided each other. Their blistering hatred might have faded a bit, but only because it was muted under the hideous embarrassment of having saved each other's lives. How was that any basis for a friendship?

And why now? Why this sudden burning desire for his company? Draco hadn't done much to change Potter's opinion of him. Maybe he was just lonely. Draco snickered to himself.

Still, why would he want to spend time with Draco? The wand was rightfully his anyway. Draco had been far too busy devouring the book to wonder about _Magical Mechanics_. This gift, though, this was something that needed dealing with. What the hell was Potter hoping to get out of flying with Draco?

Suddenly filled with righteous indignation, Draco headed for the Gryffindor common room still clutching the Snitch. He wanted an explanation, and he was going to have one.

The Fat Lady looked at him askance, and Draco withered a little under her glower, remembering telling her high-handedly that Headmaster Snape wanted him to be allowed in. He found himself looking at his shoes.

"What are _you_doing here?" she said magnificently. "You're the boy who – "

"Yes, yes," Draco muttered. Then he realised that he was cringing before a _portrait_. He looked up with a scowl. "Let me in! I want to talk to Potter."

The Fat Lady and Draco eyed each other for a silent moment. Then she opened her lipsticked mouth and screamed, _"intruder_!"

"What?" Draco yelled over her continuing screeches. "_What?_I wasn't – "

The door swung open, and Draco was confronted with a pride of glowering Gryffindors, all with wands out and hexes ready. He was damned if he was going to be intimidated by anyone after facing the Dark Lord's anger, though, so he picked the littlest one and gave him an acid glare.

"I want to talk to Harry Potter."

Draco's scowl apparently convinced the third year that the Chosen One was best equipped to deal with Draco; he scampered off. The others stayed, giving Draco deeply suspicious stares, which he returned with interest.

Potter's voice rose above the mutter of the other Gryffindors. "Malfoy? What is it?" He came forward, pushing in front of the suspicious students to give Draco a friendly look. "Come on in."

Draco hesitated for a moment, and then decided that if Potter thought he was going to be scared by the idea of being a lone Slytherin in the Tower he had another think coming. He clambered in through the portrait hole and followed Potter to the fireside, where the other seventh-year Gryffindors were sitting. Potter's two minions gave both him and Draco an odd look, but the blond wasn't paying attention.

"So?" Potter said. "What did you want to talk to me about? You want to play?" He smiled hopefully.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell did you send me the Snitch, Potter? That's not – you can't just _do _that! It wasn't just returning something, or being friendly! You said you wanted to play Quidditch!"

"I do. You're a good player."

"Compliments now?!" Draco nearly yelled. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Potter seemed to be trying not to laugh. His whole demeanor was so calm that Draco felt rather uncomfortable. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Annoyance, rage, contempt, none of that would have wrong-footed him. This, however...

"Nothing, Malfoy. I just wanted to know if you wanted to play me with your new Snitch." Draco saw no signs of mockery in his face. "You want a game?"

Draco's mouth didn't consult his brain. "Sure."

Potter smiled widely. "Great. I'll get my Firebolt."

Potter's Mudblood friend got up abruptly from where she'd been curled around Weasley. "_Harry_!"

"What?"

She looked between Draco and Potter, and Draco thought he saw a brief gleam of understanding in her eyes before she flopped back down with a _huff_. Potter looked at Weasley. He was glaring, but acquiescent. "Yeah, yeah, good will to all men and all that," he muttered, though the look he gave Draco suggested anything but. Potter beamed, and pounded up to the dorm to grab his broom.

In a few minutes, Draco had his _Accio_-ed broom over his shoulder and the two boys were heading to the pitch. It was cold outside, and Draco shivered as they emerged from the warmth of Hogwarts. Potter gave him a sidelong look. Draco put his nose in the air and Accio-ed his cloak and Quidditch gloves with all possible hauteur.

Frost crunched under their feet as Draco and Potter headed for the pitch. Once there, they gave each other a measuring look and mounted their brooms. The amiable, if slightly uncomfortable, atmosphere was instantly replaced by crackling tension.

Draco released the Snitch.

And they're off! Draco kicked off with a yell, his stomach swooping. Potter yelled too, and they shared a look of ecstasy at being in the air. The Snitch had vanished, but neither boy was too bothered. They instantly launched into a round of aerial acrobatics, swooping and diving, tensing muscles and shouting taunts as they tried to outdo each other.

"Let's see you match this!" Potter yelled, and launched himself straight down. He stopped himself inches from the glittering ground in a beautiful Wronski Feint, and flew back up to give Draco a smug look. His hair was even more windblown than usual, and his arms looked strong as they gripped the broom.

Where did _that _thought come from?

Draco gave him a Look and turned, searching for a flash of gold. This was a deliberately prolonged game, and he was surprised by the lack of anger in their usual competition – but he was still determined to win.

Draco suddenly jack-knifed, managing to do a very tidy somersault. Right way up again, he turned, pink-faced and beaming, to Potter. "_That's _what gets the girls!" He was rather unnerved by Potter's stare. Draco wondered irritably if he was even listening – his green eyes were intent, but –

Gold! Draco went after the Snitch in a flash, going flat on his broom as he chased the golden glint. He gave a whoop of joy at his head-start, and heard Potter growl with irritation. "I'll get it, Malfoy, and you too!"

Draco wasn't listening. He was gaining on the ball now, but Potter's broom was faster. Come on – come on –

"YES!"

His fingers closed around the ball, and the thrill of victory shocked through his chest. He'd won! Draco had finally beaten Potter – been first to the Snitch, for the first time ever.

"Yes! Yes!" he crowed, doing a little victory lap around Potter, who was sitting with his arms folded on his broom. "I did it! Ha, Potter! You LOSE!"

"Yeah, fine," Potter said with some irritation. "You wanna land now?"

They landed together, and put their brooms over their shoulders as they headed back towards the school. Draco's gleeful grin had not lessened a bit. Potter glanced at him, and smiled a little. Obviously he was going to be a gracious loser. Well Draco wasn't going to allow that.

"You lost, Potter! What will all your Gryffindor groupies say now, huh? They'll say, 'he lost' and they'll be _my _groupies and – "

Potter was laughing! Draco frowned at him. He'd been expecting gritted teeth and clenched fists. "You're not even annoyed," he whined. "It's no fun if you're not annoyed."

Potter laughed, the warm chuckle seeming to roll over every inch of Draco's skin. "That's because you're not being mean," he said. "I think you're losing your touch, Malfoy."

"Who's losing their touch?" Draco said indignantly. "You lost the game! And who won? Me, me, me!" They were nearly at the foot of the great stone steps leading up to the Great Hall. Draco looked at them, then at Potter.

And he leapt for the stairs, running up them at top speed and bursting through the heavy doors before Potter came close.

He followed Draco in at a more relaxed pace, laughing. "You are so manically competitive, Malfoy."

Draco snorted. "Right. And you aren't competitive at_ all_."

"You've got me there. But I am nowhere near as obsessive as you."

"You are too!" Draco protested, not realising how childish he sounded until Potter laughed again. He was really starting to like that sound. He glared anyway, unleashing an acidic look that only made Potter laugh harder.

"Calm down, Draco." He stepped closer, and Draco's heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the other boy wide-eyed, not understanding why he felt so wrong-footed by the simple concept of Potter standing close to him.

"Draco,"he said quietly, those bright green eyes fixed on Draco's grey ones. "You know what?"

"What?"

Potter's smile split into a wicked grin. "Your hair's a mess."

"What!" Draco clawed at his hair. Bloody hell, no gel, he'd forgotten! "You bastard, Potter!"

Potter laughed again, his eyes showing brief tenderness. "See you soon, Malfoy."


	4. Chapter 4

_28__th__ December _

Draco woke up smiling. He'd finally beaten Potter, and with any luck a new parcel would be arriving shortly.

By eleven, he was fuming. All right, there'd been no definite indication of another gift... but he wanted one all the same! And what about Quidditch? Didn't Potter want to play again?

Potter wasn't going to get away with this.

When he turned up at Gryffindor again, the Fat Lady gave him a frankly suspicious look. Draco's lip curled reflexively, but he knew that if she didn't call, he'd have to wait until someone else came along. So Draco smiled hopefully up at the portrait and said, "I want to talk to Harry Potter." Most people would have said _please_, but Draco was not most people.

She sniffed, but called, "the Malfoy boy's here again!"She was still glaring, but Draco was no longer paying attention because Potter was there.

"Draco! I wasn't expecting you." Draco could see the surprise behind the pleasure in the green eyes, and he felt himself blush faintly.

"I was bored. You want a rematch?"

"Sure. Come in, I'll get my broom."

Draco swallowed his instinctive tingle of unease and clambered in. The Gryffindors his age were clustered around the fire, and he followed Potter to them.At their looks, Draco explained, "I wanted to play again."

Weasley snorted from the sofa. "Wanted your next present, more like."

Draco turned a beaming smile on Potter. "I get another present?" Potter went red and suddenly appeared to have something stuck in his throat. The Weaslette, rolling her eyes, responded from where she and Dean Thomas were wrapped up together, as Potter escaped. "Twelve days of Christmas, Malfoy. One every day until Epiphany."

Draco grinned. "Twelve presents!" He was far too pleased with this concept to wonder why.

The Gryffindors laughed. "That's the way to a Malfoy's heart right there," Weasley said.

"What's the way to yours then, Weasley?" he retorted. "Food?"

There was a split second of tension, as he and Weasley held gazes. Then Granger handed her boyfriend a Chocolate Frog and smiled. "That's it!"

Thankfully, Potter appeared before Draco's mouth could get him into trouble again. "Come on, Potter," he said quickly. "I want to kick your arse again."

Potter snorted. "Please. I'll beat you and restore the natural order of the universe."

"You'll_try_."

* * *

Potter was _still _bloody holding Draco's Snitch. He may have caught it, but Draco thought it would have been polite to give it back promptly.He wasn't being very polite himself – they were nearly back at the castle and Draco hadn't spoken – but he was sulking.

They reached the Great Hall, and stood silent. Draco was still glaring at the floor, but he could feel Potter's angry green gaze.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Potter said finally, in exasperation. "You're being stupid. You won yesterday, didn't you?"

Draco replied bitterly, "yeah, and now the natural order has been restored, just like you said."

Potter rolled his eyes, and something in Draco shrivelled at the lack of the tolerant amusement he'd so quickly got used to. "I was _joking_, you idiot. Honestly."

Draco locked eyes with him belligerently. "I nearly won, you know. I would have won, but it's cold. Threw me off my game."

Potter gave him a look of frank ridicule that Draco supposed he deserved, given that Quidditch season was winter. But speaking seemed to have cooled Potter's annoyance. "Come on then, since you're so delicate. It's warm in Gryffindor – you lot must be freezing."

This was true, but Draco still wasn't going to let Potter malign his house. "Look, Potter, you – hey! Let go!"

"Let's just get walking, Malfoy." Potter gave him a knowing look. "You can have your present when we get to Gryffindor Tower."

Draco got walking.

The Fat Lady's expression got no less disapproving when Potter spilled the password – _Fizzing Whizzbees _– in front of him. They went inside, and Draco pulled a face at the profusion of red Christmas decorations. "It's supposed to be red_and _green, you know. This place is ridiculously shabby."

"Hush," Potter ordered. "I'm going to get your present, OK?"

Draco bagged an armchair right by the fire before Longbottom could get it. It was good to know that however proficient Longbottom was in chopping snakes' heads off, he would never be better than Draco at getting what he wanted. The warmth was blissful, and Draco curled up like a cat. He even closed his eyes, trusting Potter's influence to keep people from hexing him.

There was a low laugh that Draco recognised as Potter's. "Shut up," he said without opening his eyes. "It's damn cold in the dungeons with everyone away."

"Sure." Draco opened his eyes to gave the Gryffindor a slit-eyed glare, but Potter wasn't paying attention. He dropped onto a sofa next to Seamus Finnigan with a sigh.

There was a tiny, outraged squeak, and Potter leapt up again with a yell. Draco burst out laughing, and he wasn't the only one. "What was that, Potter?"

"That was your present."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "If Hagrid bred it, I don't want it."

Potter laughed. "He's bred one before... sort of." He put a hand in his back pocket and withdrew a tiny, living model of a dragon, which snapped at him irritably after being sat on. He held it out to Draco on the flat of his palm. "Look, Draco, it's your namesake."

"Try again, Potter. I was named after the constellation. Stars are beautiful and far away and non-fire-breathing."Despite his words, Draco was watching the little dragon, which he recognised as a Hungarian Horntail, like the one Potter had flown against in fourth year.

"I doubt this little one's all that deadly. I know he breathes fire, but he's really cute." Draco noticed Potter wasn't looking at the dragon in his hands.

The little dragon finally seemed to notice Draco, and sat down to return his stare. Draco looked at the dragon, and the dragon looked at him. There was a silence; no one even seemed to be breathing. Then the Horntail gave a wide, smoky yawn, and curled up on Potter's palm.

Draco was enchanted. He put out a hand, and beamed as Potter carefully put the dragon in it. "I'm gonna call him Rover."

Potter spluttered, and some of the other students followed suit. "_Rover_?"

"Yeah," Draco explained enthusiastically. "I heard one of the Ravenclaws say they were training their pet to attack people! _Kill Rover kill_!"

Potter was obviously fighting a laugh, but Draco was too mesmerised by his new pet to pay attention. "That's great, Draco." He sat back down, and watched Draco watch Rover. The Slytherin stroked the dragon carefully with one finger, feeling the miniature spikes prick his skin. He poked gently round the little snout, and finally Rover pounced on the end of his finger, putting tiny, needle-sharp teeth against his skin.

"Isn't it great?" Draco said gleefully, looking up to see Potter watching him. "Good Rover," he cooed. "Who's going to grow up to be a big, deadly dragon?"

The Gryffindors were snickering, but Rover had just poked his spiky head against Draco's hand, asking to be petted, and he had no time for trivialities. He sat with Rover until he was thoroughly warmed, and Rover kept trying to compete with the fireplace, sending little flames licking out towards the hearth.

Finally, he looked up. "I should get back to Slytherin."

Potter started, as if coming out of a reverie. "I'll go with you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't need an escort, Potter." He stood and curled a hand around Rover carefully. He could feel the tiny dragon's heart beating through its armor, its chest warm against his fingers.

Potter was blushing slightly. "I'll come anyway. Stretch my legs, all that."

"OK." Preoccupied with climbing out of the portrait hole one-handed, it did not occur to Draco that their hour of Quidditch had already stretched his legs quite effectively. He slid Rover gently into his pocket, next to his wand

The boys walked slowly, giving each other sidelong grins. Draco felt oddly tense, body taut with something that was not quite excitement.

Potter opened his mouth, and was about to speak when –

"YAAAAH!" Draco leapt about a foot in the air, giving a distinctly unmanly shriek. Rover had _bitten_ him, the little bastard! "Ow ow _ow_!" Draco scrabbled frantically in his pocket, managing to get the dragon – and his tiny predator's teeth – dislodged. Rover flew out of his pocket, followed by his wand – somewhat less literally.

Draco looked up to see Potter bent double, roaring with laughter. His grey eyes narrowed.

"Oi! It's your bloody gift that bit me! You'd better believe you're catching him for me!"

Potter choked, gurgled, and made other tiny noises of laughter. Finally, he was laughing in that almost silent wheeze that comes after hysterics. He stood up and nodded, smile still growing and being tugged back as he fought for control. Draco glared at him.

"Don't give me that look." Potter, with a Seeker's reflexes, grabbed Rover off the stone, then Draco's wand. "Here you go." He tipped the Horntail into Draco's right hand, and laid the wand in his left just as Draco turned his head.

For an instant, both boys held one end of the wand, grey eyes staring into green. Draco was mesmerised. Then he felt a shock shudder through his arm, a golden glow suffusing him, his blood suddenly fizzing like sherbert. He looked down at his wand. The wood looked just as it had before to the casual observer; to Draco, it was shining.

He looked up again, and smiled brilliantly at Harry. "It's _mine_ again!"


	5. Chapter 5

_29__th__ December _

Mid-morning Draco was still flushed with success, holding his wand as if it might escape him if he let go and casting wildly. The few Slytherins left over Christmas had wisely scarpered, leaving Draco to stand on a sofa and turn all the mistletoe purple. He caught sight of himself in the big mirror above the fireplace and almost gasped. Draco's eyes were glittering oddly, like grey jewels, his face even paler than usual but for two hot spots of pink on his cheeks. His hair was sticking up and stuck to his skin, which was gleaming with sweat. He looked...

"Crazy," said an acerbic voice from a portrait of an austere looking woman in a dark purple dress. "You look very odd, Mr Malfoy. It's the result of all this magical exertion and high emotion – not that high emotion is exactly foreign to you. You need to calm down. Do something restful. Talk to someone interesting, I doubt you could relax at the moment."

"Calm down! Do something restful! I can't concentrate on anything but magic, I couldn't if I tried. You don't know what it's like!" Draco felt almost drunk on the power running through his veins – though this was largely because he was wallowing in it. The faint tingle of recognition a wizard felt each time he picked up his wand and performed magic had been amped up into the thrill of reunion.

The scrape of stone on stone sounded loud to his sensitised ears, and Draco turned to see Harry standing outside the opened wall looking smug.

Draco jumped off the sofa. "How did you do _that_?"

Harry smirked, entering. "Parseltongue. I can still speak it, and your common room opens to it."

"Huh." Draco was rather jealous, but he wouldn't have admitted it for worlds.

"You want to come back to Gryffindor? Hermione wants to take a look at Rover. She says I never showed her how fascinating he is." Harry's flat tone showed what he thought of this. Granger instantly went up in Draco's estimation. Anyone who understood that Rover was fascinating couldn't be all bad. Still...

"She won't damage him at all, will she?" he asked suspiciously. Harry smiled at him.

"Hermione's always careful."

"Will you give me my present?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Far be it from me to stand between a Malfoy and material goods."

Draco nodded solemnly. "Braver men that you have balked at that. Though – there aren't many men braver than you, I suppose."

Harry beamed.

Draco kept a sharp eye on Granger for the first few minutes she spent with Rover, wanting to be sure no harm would come to his dragon.She was very gentle with him, and Rover seemed to like her – he sent a tiny flame towards her, which appeared to be his way of saying hello. Draco relaxed.

Granger looked at him a few times too. She looked – not angry, Draco didn't really know what it was. He noticed Granger nudge her boyfriend, and mutter something. Weasley looked up then and said, "oi, Malfoy... fancy a game of chess?"

Instantly the other Gryffindors burst into groans and laughing comments that seemed split between wondering what world this was, where Ron wanted to play with Malfoy, and warning Draco against playing against this chess fiend. Draco's competitive side immediately flared up – he was going to leave Weasley in the dust.

He pretended he hadn't seen the nudge. If he'd noticed it, he'd have to get annoyed and refuse to take pity, and it was surprisingly nice here, really; the warmth and susurrus ofvoices a million miles from Slytherin's chill. Even if everything was distressingly red, Draco liked sitting here, curled in what was now_his _armchair, watching Granger stroke his dragon while Harry talked to the others.

He stood up. "You're on, Weasley. Let's go."

He hoped Harry was watching. He was going to beat Weasley cold.

"Checkmate."

"Nooo!" Draco fell onto back, clutching melodramatically at his hair and moaning. The Gryffindors laughed, watching his paroxysms of horror. "Oh, I can't believe I lost to_ him_, I'll never recover, I'll wither away..."

"It never occurred to me before," Hermione said thoughtfully, "but maybe his incessant nastiness is partly because he's such a hysterical little drama queen."

Draco gave her an indignant look, but didn't interrupt his theatrical moans. Weasley was grinning and seemed to be enjoying Draco's pain immensely. "Losing to a Weasley, oh my poor mother, the shame alone will kill us both..."

"Would a present help?"

Draco instantly sat up and gave Harry a bright smile. "Presents _always_help!"

Harry passed him something he'd apparently had stowed by him on the sofa. Draco saw to his pleasure that the present was wrapped in bright blue wrapping paper, with little penguins throwing snowballs at each other. He saw a little penguin get it in the neck and smirked, then tore into his parcel with all the finesse of Attila the Hun.

"Gloves?" Draco grinned slightly mockingly. "What are you, Potter, my mother?"

Harry blushed, then seemed to regain his usual fire. "You're the one who complained about being cold yesterday, Malfoy, and you don't have Quidditch gloves. I'm only trying to protect the poor, wimpy little Slytherin."

"OI!" Draco yelled. "You take that back!"

"Or what?"Harry looked horribly, terribly smug. There could be only one response.

He gave a war cry and leapt. Harry shouted in response – more in shock than fury – as Draco landed on him, raining mock blows on his head. Harry fought back, but only by flapping his hands pathetically at Draco's mid-section.

"I'll show you who's a wimp!" Draco yelled. "Lions, ha – you're a bunch of kittens!"

"Oh, you're going down now, Malfoy!" Harry grabbed Draco round the waist and shoved forward. Draco felt a moment of shocking adrenaline as he fell backwards... then he landed solidly on the rug, Harry on top of him.

Draco could hear the others laughing and egging them on. He squirmed under Harry, the two of them hitting out dramatically. Harry felt like he was everywhere, the whole world made of bony knees and nudging thighs and soft hair getting in his mouth and hands and hot breath panting against his neck and...

"Hey!" he spluttered. Harry had grabbed his wrists, and was now holding them down and grinning in victory, green eyes alight with triumph.

"I win!"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Get off."

Harry did, then stood up, linking his hands above his head and yelling his victory while the other Gryffindors cheered him. Draco gave a half-grin, then grabbed his gloves and sat by Granger to check on his dragon.

"I'll win next time, Harry. Count on it."


End file.
